


Are You Mine?

by repenting (wetbreadstick)



Series: unabashed debauchery [7]
Category: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Grinding, M/M, Smutlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-04 00:13:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1074721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wetbreadstick/pseuds/repenting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Komaeda’s jeans whisper against the leather of the couch, and he knows.</p><p>The television buzzes blue in front of them, static flashing across moving characters and colors. The sound of muted dialogue and laughter wavers through the air towards them, and Hinata’s eyes remain on the brightly glowing screen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Are You Mine?

**Author's Note:**

> guess who's back (back, back)  
> back again (gain, gain)
> 
> ANYWAYS i felt bad about not posting anything for eight hundred years so have this thing i wrote at 4 am. teenage boys come really quickly okay trust me on this. unbeta'd as usual, guess what song i listened to on repeat while i crapped this out

Komaeda’s jeans whisper against the leather of the couch, and he knows.

The television buzzes blue in front of them, static flashing across moving characters and colors. The sound of muted dialogue and laughter wavers through the air towards them, and Hinata’s eyes remain on the brightly glowing screen.

He’s not surprised when Komaeda swings a leg over his, settling into his lap with a glint in his eye. His clothed shoulders are silhouetted with the white and green light that flickers from the television, wild pale locks falling fanciful over his forehead.

“Hinata,” he says, and the word is a whisper, a rasp of skin over gravel. His eyes are wild, frenzied, lime and phosphorescence pinning Hinata to the couch. A pale hand traces over  
Hinata’s arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake as it cups his jaw.

Hinata inhales sharply, his own hand immediately grasping Komaeda’s thigh. “You know Naegi and Kirigiri are in the other room.” He comments lowly, gaze flitting down to the other boy’s mouth. Komaeda laughs, leaning forwards, filling the dark space with his crushed-pine-needle-antiseptic-sweet scent and a brush of fabric.

“I know,” he replies, lips curving upwards in amusement. “But I—I can’t help myself, Hinata, you know that.” Komaeda rasps, shifting closer. Hinata blinks, feeling the familiar stirring of heat that comes with the drag of Komaeda’s legs against his, and his hand shifts, gripping the jut of his hip.

Komaeda leans in, hot breath washing over Hinata’s cheek, chapped lips just barely brushing his. “I have to—“ and there’s that pause again, where the sharp edge of sanity breaks through the wavering timbre of his voice. “—have to have you.”

He hisses when Hinata’s nails dig through his shirt, pressing into pale skin in response.

“Just be quiet.” Hinata warns, and Komaeda smiles against his mouth.

Komaeda wastes no time pressing his lips to Hinata’s, desire bleeding through in the wet swipe of his tongue over the other boy’s lower lip. Hinata exhales slowly, hand pushing up the hem of his shirt as he presses upwards into the kiss, shocks tingling along his nerves with every small noise Komaeda makes in the back of his throat.  
  
Their soft puffs of breath are barely audible over the sound of the movie blaring behind them, but that only seems to spur Komaeda on. His teeth catch on Hinata’s bottom lip, tugging, a pleased rumble sounding from the back of his throat as Hinata’s breath catches.

Hinata’s hand travels underneath Komaeda’s shirt, calloused fingers traversing over the ridges of his spine and marveling in the way his back arches liquidly under his touch. Their tongues swirl together hotly, Komaeda’s fingers stroking Hinata’s cheek as he lets out a soft moan.

The room was warm enough before their impromptu touching session, and Komaeda draws his hands back, shouldering off his thick jacket without breaking their heated kiss. A lull in the noise from the television reveals the gasps and groans and shifting of fabric coming from the both of them, Hinata’s back straightening as both hands come up to Komaeda’s torso.

His waist gives willowily under Hinata’s touch, a breathy moan following. “H—Hinata,” he gasps into his mouth, lips pink and bruised.

Hearing his name spoken like that is enough to have Hinata’s hips jerk upwards, which only elicits another lewd noise from Komaeda. “O-- oh.” He breathes, hips rolling down against Hinata in response.

“Komaeda,” Hinata manages roughly, catching Komaeda’s mouth in another fierce kiss. “F—fuck, you—“ his hands hold Komaeda steady, wisps of heat stirring and swirling in his abdomen. He doesn’t miss the sharp predator-smile Komaeda gives in return against his lips, and he pinches his thigh for good measure.

He’s growing hard already, can feel the fabric of his boxers and jeans growing damp and restrictive, and he hisses as Komaeda grinds down against him, slow and dirty. There’s a moment where their movements are both sloppy before they fall into a steady rhythm, the friction of their clothes arousal flaring heat deep in his bones.

The movie has faded to nonsensical buzzing in the background, the only sounds Hinata can hear being their loud pants and the rushing of blood in his ears

Komaeda’s head tilts back as he lets out a particularly luxurious moan, eyelids fluttering as the column of his throat bathes in the pale light from the screen behind them. Hinata eyes him, gaze heated, before pressing a kiss just under Komaeda’s jaw, relishing the pleased noise that follows.

He leaves a trail of lingering, open-mouthed kisses down his neck, nipping at the soft flesh presented to him. All the while, his thrusts grow more insistent, a surprised gasp escaping Komaeda as he bites down on the juncture between his shoulder and neck.

The heat’s coiling like a serpent, friction sloppy and quick, the tension between them thick enough to cut as Komaeda’s heavy breath increases.

“H—Hinata, I can’t, I—I’m gonna—“ Komaeda’s breathless, the stamina his teenage body provides him running thin. He’s close-- Hinata can feel the way his thighs tremble with every frantic drag of his hips, moans falling from his dainty lips like raindrops.

Komaeda braces his hands on the sofa cushion behind Hinata’s shoulders, his moans barely heard over the audio of the movie as Hinata grits his teeth. It’s too much, too much, the hot-iron-fireworks touch between them is curling tighter and tighter—

\-- “Komaeda!”

Hinata muffles the other’s name in his neck, gasps shuddering out of him as he comes. His orgasm washes over him like an ocean wave, warm from head to toe, fingers digging bruises into Komaeda’s summer-peach skin.

Komaeda follows him over the edge with a whimper and the aftershocks that rock his hips, sweaty forehead pitching forward when he inhales sharply. His mouth forms a tiny ‘o’, eyes wide with the sensation that makes his shoulders and legs shake.

It’s a moment before they both come down, Hinata’s chest shuddering as Komaeda goes boneless in his lap. Wayward hair brushes just under the brunet’s chin as his head tilts back, grimacing slightly as the wet slick of come in his boxers brushes against his limp cock.

Neither of them say anything, basking in the afterglow of their mutual orgasm, breaths slowly settling to a normal pace.

Hinata feels the warmth of Komaeda’s fingers threading through his, a lazy, reverent kiss pressed to his jaw shortly afterwards.

Behind them, the television screen fades to half-light, white credits rolling across the dark screen.


End file.
